


Tipped Over Moon

by twobirdsonesong



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-30 01:05:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12642999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: A very, very delayed (and small) follow up toCrosstown 79.Wherein Chris and Darren are still witches and get out of the city for a very special reason.





	Tipped Over Moon

The lobby of the Enterprise car rental is bustling, ripe with anxiety and aggravation, unsurprising for a Saturday morning in New York City.

 

“You’d think they’d be open longer than 1:00pm,” Chris says under his breath.  “And earlier than 9:00am. It’s like they think no one in New York wants to leave town on the weekends.”

 

Darren huffs. “I think the employees want to escape the city for the weekend and leave us all here to rot.”

 

The line creeps forward by inches. There are two clerks behind the long counter, and empty spaces for two more.  They seem unhurried by the growing, restless line.  Darren can feel the minutes ticking by, every moment standing there in the beige lobby a moment on the road lost. Moments further away from the thing he desires most.

 

There is a house waiting for them, a few hours out of the city; an old barn nestled between a private pond and a stretch of woods.  Darren can smell the oak of the bonfire already, and the fresh green of the trees.

 

Darren considers gently _suggesting_ to the entire line that they have urgent appointments elsewhere in the city, but Chris touches his wrist and shakes his head.

 

“What?” Darren asks guilelessly.

 

Chris rolls his eyes. “I know what you’re thinking.”

 

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

 

“I always know what you’re thinking.” Chris tips his head towards the line. “Not here.”

 

“Why not?” Darren pouts.  It would be so easy, just a little attention, a draw of breath, and they could have the keys to a car in hand in minutes. The other people waiting wouldn’t even know anything was amiss.

 

Chris’ warm fingers rub against the smooth skin over his pulse point, slow and rhythmic. Darren feels it all the way down to his wellspring, to the core of him where he draws in the power from the earth. His magic surges up at the touch, pushing back against Chris’, finding itself countered in Chris’ power.

 

Chris once told him that he felt like the ocean, sea salt and the pull of the moon in his veins; his Grandmother’s siren blood. When Darren reaches out to Chris, tests the edges of his aura or reaches deeper beneath the boundary of his skin, he feels the earth. Rich loam and the thick pine of ancient trees. Chris’ magic coils in his belly, starlight through the clouds and the blood of green witches. It envelops Darren, the safety of a forest protected by centuries of ruins etched into bark and those rites danced into moonlit nights.

 

It’s with him all of the time now. The constant presence of Chris’ magic reaching out for his own, coiled around his wrists, sliding up the back of his leg, settled warm between his shoulder blades. Darren struggles to remember the time before Chris tipped over his world.

 

“Fine,” Darren acquiesces. “But this means I’m driving.” 

 

“When was the last time you drove a car?” Chris asks.

 

“I’m an excellent driver,” counters Darren.

 

“That’s not what I asked.”

 

Darren wrinkles his nose, thinking back. “Second grade.”

 

Chris clucks his tongue. “I’m going to drive.”

 

“Nope.”

 

*******

 

The car they finally end up with is a little Honda that feels sturdy under Darren’s hands.

 

“She’ll do.”

 

“There’s no need to gender the car,” Chris says, putting his bag into the backseat.

 

“We could have gotten something else if you’d let me jump the line,” Darren points out.

 

“I can still take the keys away from you.”

 

“I think I’d enjoy you trying,” Darren leers over the top of the car.

 

Chris shakes his head: “Let’s go, Romeo.”

 

It takes an age to get out of the city, but eventually the cityscape breaks into open countryside, verdant and damp.  Darren revels in the control of the steering wheel under his hands, the rumble of the engine, and the closeness of Chris next to him.  Power flickers off of Chris, little tendrils that escape his control when he’s comfortable and loose.

 

Darren can feel himself relaxing as the miles between them and the city increase, tension easing from his bones as they drive deeper into the countryside.  It will be easier out here, to accomplish what he wants, where the distance between himself and the power in the earth is diminished.  Most of Chris’ power lives within himself, but Darren draws his out of ley-lines, pulls it from the light of the moon and the rhythm of waves.

 

“Feels better already,” Darren comments.

 

“I bet.

 

Darren glances over at Chris, who lounges in the passenger seat, one knee resting against the door. “Are you mocking my need for fresh air?”

 

Chris rolls his head towards Darren.  His eyes are soft, his smile intimate.  “Never. Only your need to roll around in the mud.”

 

“I will not be rolling around in the mud.”

 

“But you will be dancing naked in the forest.”

 

Darren grins.  “That is the plan.”

 

Chris reaches over, rests his hand on Darren’s thigh.  A spark jumps from his palm just before he makes contact, a flicker of power that dances down Darren’s leg and curls around his calf.  It makes him shiver, makes his own salt-tinged magic surge in response.

 

“Careful,” Darren warns teasingly. “Still driving here.”

 

“Then drive a little faster.”

 

Darren does.

 

*******

 

The house they’ve rented for the long weekend is an old converted barn up in the Hudson Valley, a few hours out of the city.  Darren used AirBnb to find it, and a bit of a magic to ensure it was available for the weekend he wanted it.  There are only so many full moons in a year after all, and he wasn’t above tipping fate a little in his favor sometimes.

  
Darren breathes in the cool, fresh air as they get out of the car, letting it wash over him.  Gravel crunches under his feet, and beneath that he can feel the forgiving rebound of the earth.   The barn is a rustic grey wash with a wide, deep blue door and faded white window frames. A single light beckons cheerily from within.  No one else is around, only the comforting spread of tall, ancient trees. The world feels purposeful here, and he feels steady.

 

Inside is just what Darren expected from the photos, old wood and warm colors; big rooms and high, beamed ceilings.  An iron, wood-burning stove waits in the main room with stacks of fragrant firewood; a bouquet of fresh autumn flowers sits on the big woodblock table in the open kitchen. It is quiet, comfortable.

 

“This is amazing,” Chris comments, setting his bag gently down.  “Certainly better than our apartment.”

 

“Hey,” Darren protests. “You like our apartment.”

 

“I do,” Chris concedes, smiling.

 

After a little cajoling (though not that much), Chris had agreed to move into Darren’s place.  Darren suspects his rooftop garden had much to do with the decision.  Darren had taken pains to convince Brian, Chris’ familiar, that the move was desired by him as well. It would not do to upset the sympathetic magic of Chris’ cat.

 

Chris moved in on the equinox; Darren helped him cleanse his own apartment of every trace of his magic before they closed that door behind them.  At his place, Darren stood back as Chris wandered through the rooms, running his fingers along the walls, adding his own magic to the wards, letting it sink into the wood and brick where it would join with Darren’s.  Darren wasn’t quite sure how it worked, but it felt like the apartment had grown a little bit bigger to accommodate them both.  As though the walls had taken a breath and shrugged a little more space between them.  It had felt so right immediately.

 

Darren steps up behind Chris, circles his arms around Chris’ waist and pushes up on his toes to be able to rest his chin on Chris’ shoulder.  “You like?”

 

“I like,” Chris agrees.

 

“Good.  Big weekend we’ve got here.”

 

Chris hums a little under his breath and squeezes Darren’s forearm.  “It is.”

 

Darren stretches up to kiss Chris’ jaw before slipping away. There’s a little more to be done first.

 

From his bag, Darren pulls out a small jar, rattling with sprigs of thyme and rosemary, and a few sachets of chamomile, pennyroyal, and heather, plucked from his garden.  Chris takes them from him and sets them in window sills nearest to the cardinal corners as he can.  A little luck, fortune, and goodwill for the weekend. They’ll leave the dried herbs tucked under the front stairs when they leave, a hidden gift for the hosts and the next guests.

 

“Hey,” Darren calls softly, drawing Chris’ back attention to him.

 

“Hey.”

 

“You wanna try out one of the bedrooms? If we hurry we can get all four in before dinner.”

 

The look Chris gives him is equal parts exasperation and consideration.

 

Darren grins.  “So…is that a yes?”

 

“Incorrigible.”

 

*******

 

Back behind the house is a fire pit ringed with heavy, gleaming black stones.  A cord of dry wood is stacked nearby, kept safe under a rugged lean-to. Nearby, a lazy stream runs over smooth pebbles, and a small pond shimmers under the stars.

 

Darren places a mound of lavender, clover, and sage in the center of the pit, amid the old ashes.  He sets a little pile of tinder around it, chips of pine and dried fig leaves. Darren layers the dry wood up high, logs of oak and birch; heartwood from tall trees with the memories of centuries.

 

He sits back on his heels, surveys his creation and is satisfied by the build of it.  “Not quite what our ancestors used, is it?”

 

Chris shrugs, but looks pleased nevertheless. “It’s good enough for us.”

 

Darren looks at Chris, features highlighted in the shadows thrown by the red wax candle in his hands. He remembers their first date, Chris warming a scone with his hands and his breath.  The same warmth fills Darren now, a banked fire in his chest that has helped fuel his power since Chris entered his life.  He feels Chris all the time now, crackling under his skin, coiling around his wrists and heart, exactly where he belongs.

 

“Care to do the honors?” Darren offers.

 

Chris nods and steps closer to the pit, just outside of the stone circle, and sets aside the candle.  He crouches down and rests his hand on one of the stones.

 

The air suddenly becomes electric; the hair on Darren’s arms and the back of his neck rise as Chris’ power fills the air.  Darren smells the sudden snap of sulfur as the wood bursts into life, bright flames fast rising high with a crack.  Heat washes over Darren as the electricity dissipates.  He feels the lasting traces of Chris’ magic flickering along his neck, his cheeks.  He leans into it, lets it be the caress it is.

 

“Nice,” he compliments.

 

Chris steps back and surveys the fire. “It’s not bad,” he concedes.  Darren has grown used to Chris’ quieter enthusiasm, the molded steel of him.  “It’ll do.”

 

Darren stands and comes around the fire to stand close. “Would your grandmother be proud?”

 

Chris’ gaze grows as heated as the fragrant fire.  “She would be.”

 

Darren extends his hand and grins as lightning sparks between their palms when Chris clasps their fingers together.  He has grown used to that as well, mostly.  “Are you ready?” He asks, head tilted back to be able to look into Chris’ darkened eyes.

 

Chris’ fingers tighten around his.  “I am.”

 

“Okay then.”

 

Darren lets go of Chris’ hand, but only to pick up the bag they’d brought out to the fire pit and withdraw three more tall red wax candles.  He hands one to Chris, keeps the other two for himself. With a breath, he lights the candles at once.

 

“All right,” he says, and then steals a quick kiss from Chris over the flames.

  
They make a wider circle around the fire, the candles marking the cardinal points. Darren feels it in his belly when the circle is complete, a tightening that makes his breath catch.  He can see in the flicker of Chris’ mouth that he feels it too. It feels old, and powerful.  And ready.

 

Chris joins him at the fire again.  He carries now a small length of rough cord from the bag.  The sight of it makes energy crackle up Darren’s spine.  Above them the full moon illuminates a few clouds.

 

“And this is where we dance naked,” Darren teases, voice pitched low in reverence.

 

“It is not,” Chris protests, but there is a smile in the corners of his mouth.

 

“It is. It’s in the rules.”

 

“It is not.”

 

“I’m taking my shirt off at least.”

 

Chris rolls his eyes. “Well, I expected nothing else.”

 

Darren tugs his shirt off and tosses it outside the circle. He pauses, gestures to Chris. “Come on now.”

 

With an aggrieved sigh, Chris takes his own off too.  It should be cold in the autumn night, but the fire warms their skin, as does the free-flowing magic between them.

 

Darren turns to face Chris completely, lets the moment build in silence between them. He reaches out his right hand, eyes fixed on Chris’ fire-lit face. Chris’ bare chest rises with the long breath he takes as he loops the rough cord around Darren’s wrist, and then hands the end to Darren. Energy crackles under Darren’s fingers when he takes the cord, and again when Chris rests his right hand on top of his own. Power races up Darren’s arm and down his back. He circles the end of the cord around Chris’ right wrist, just the same as his own.  Together, they manage to tie a loose knot.

 

Darren cannot breathe for a moment for the heavy waves of energy rocking through him.  He can taste earth on his tongue, dandelions and starlight.  He feels Chris whole and complete within him.  He can see the same in Chris’ face, can feel it in the echoing pulse of his magic.  He can see the ley line under their feet, the same glow of the moon.

 

Darren doesn’t have vows.  He doesn’t have pretty things to say.  Doesn’t have promises or confessions or even an actual spell to cast.  He just has the ancient pull of his life’s blood reaching for Chris, binding him to another, as it’s been doing since he first felt him on that bus that cold and rainy morning.  That is enough for him to know, enough to be complete.

 

“This heavy beating heart of mine,” Chris whispers as he places his left hand over Darren’s chest, against his bared skin. Darren gasps as Chris touches the very soul of him, sliding through muscle and bone and the protective magic around his heart and finding himself within.

 

“I knew we would do this the day I met you,” says Darren, leaning into the touch, feeling grounded and elevated.  He puts his other hand on Chris’ waist

 

“You did not.”

 

“I did.” Darren tips his head up for a kiss, slow and sealing.  “My wild and untamed thing.”

 

He pulls Chris close, their bound hands between them, as the fire continues to burn into the night.


End file.
